Conor

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Conor Page 19

by Ruth Ryan Langan


  glimmer of hope. She would trust him to set his plans into motion in

  time.

  When the queen pushed from the table and prepared to take her leave,

  Emma felt a wave of relief. She needed only a moment or two of

  Conor's time.

  Instead, her plans were thwarted when the queen commanded sternly,

  "Come, my ladies. Our work with the seamstresses has just begun."

  Emma trailed the other women, her hopes plummeting. There were

  only days left before their departure. The safety, the very lives of her

  father and sister depended on her. And she was being forced to waste

  her time on such frivolous things as ball gowns and riding cloaks.

  Emma sat beside the Earl of Blystone, watching and listening in

  silence while Conor told an amusing story. All night he had charmed

  the crowd with his wit and humor. Throughout the endless dinner,

  and afterward, during the interminable dancing, he had been the life

  of the party.

  Now he sipped his ale and leaned back while the queen added her

  own bit of narrative to the tale.

  All around her, while the titled guests nodded and laughed, Emma felt

  her composure beginning to slip. In three days Conor hadn't found

  even a moment to speak with her in private. Three long days. She was

  beginning to think he'd been avoiding her. What other explanation

  could there be? Perhaps he had lost his taste for adventure. Perhaps

  the queen had cautioned him about spending too much time away

  from her. Whatever the reason, Emma was beginning to lose faith.

  Just watching him, listening to that smooth voice always saying just

  the right thing, made her question the wisdom of placing so much

  trust in the man. Hadn't he admitted to being a spy? Wasn't he a man

  who seemed to consider nothing sacred? Why should he take on her

  problems, when they could only lead to trouble?

  "...my lady?"

  She stared at the outstretched hand for a full minute before

  comprehension dawned. The earl had just asked her to dance.

  "Of course." She accepted his hand and moved into his arms. And all

  the while, she watched as Conor led the queen through the same

  dance steps across the room.

  Blystone leaned close to whisper, "Are you as excited as I at the

  prospect of the progress, my lady?"

  She struggled to put some gaiety into her tone. "Aye. It should prove

  to be quite an adventure."

  He sighed. "I do so look forward to showing you my home at

  Warwick."

  Emma forced a smile. "I've heard that it's a lovely place."

  "It was. And it could become lovely and gay again. It saddens me to

  see how somber and empty it has become since my wife's death. I

  have much preferred the liveliness of court."

  "Then I'm glad that the queen will now bring laughter and life back to

  your home."

  He tipped up her chin. "It is not only the queen's visit that gladdens

  my heart, my lady. Part of my excitement is due to you."

  "My lord..." Emma found herself speechless.

  "My given name is James. Though Elizabeth has always called me

  Blystone, my friends call me Jamie." His voice lowered. "I hope you

  will do the same."

  She was grateful for the interruption when the queen and Conor

  paused beside them.

  Elizabeth gave Blystone a bright smile. "Dance with me, my friend,

  and we will talk about the plans you have made."

  "Aye, Majesty. With pleasure." Blystone released his hold on Emma

  and began circling the floor with the queen.

  "My lady." Conor held out his hand, and Emma moved into his arms.

  "You have been extremely busy, I see." Emma hated the petulant tone

  of her voice, but there was no stopping it. She couldn't hide her

  displeasure.

  "Aye, my lady." Conor watched until Dunstan and his partner,

  Amena, moved beyond hearing. Then he bent low and whispered,

  "Be ready tonight. When the others have retired."

  Emma's head came up sharply. Her mouth opened, but no words

  came out. Finally she managed to blurt, "How could you calmly sit

  there...?"

  He gave her his most charming smile. "I believe that is another new

  gown, Emma."

  She swallowed. Blinked furiously to keep tears from brimming.

  "Aye, my lord."

  "It is most becoming." He turned her in an elaborate circle, and she

  felt her head spin.

  None of this seemed real. Tonight, while the others slept, she and

  Conor would ride to the rescue of her father and sister. They would be

  free of Celestine. All of them. Free.

  Including herself. She would no longer have Celestine's threats

  forcing her to do things she despised. She shook her head to clear it.

  "All through the evening, I have been entertaining doubts about you,

  Conor. Allowing myself to think the worst. And all along, you've had

  your plans in place."

  "Forgive me, Emma. There was no way to prepare you. This was why

  I haven't come near you. I knew it best that we were not seen together

  for a while."

  He had filled his days and nights with dangerous schemes. And she

  had foolishly resented him.

  "My lady, I will bid you goodnight now." As the music ended, he

  handed her over to the Earl of Blystone and walked away beside the

  queen.

  Minutes later Conor and Elizabeth took their leave, while the others

  bowed and curtsied.

  Emma struggled to join in the laughter and gaiety of the other

  ladies-in-waiting and the gentlemen, as they sipped their ale and

  repeated the latest gossip. But her mind was already, on the danger

  that lay before her this night.

  She glanced around at the others and realized that not one of them had

  an inkling that this was a momentous occasion. If all went well, she

  and her family would be free of Celestine's tyranny forever. And she

  would be free of this deceit that had her lying to the man she loved.

  The man she loved.

  The thought was so stunning, she could do nothing more than stare

  into the flames of the fire, while a dreamy smile played on her lips.

  "Perhaps you will join me in a game of chess, my lady?"

  She looked up in surprise. How long had the earl been staring at her?

  She pressed a hand to her mouth, pretending to stifle a yawn.

  "Forgive me, my lord. I must go to my bed."

  "Then I will accompany you to your room." He offered his arm and

  she accepted.

  At the door of her chambers she turned and offered her hand.

  He closed it between both of his and brought it to his lips. "Perhaps,

  my dear Emma, you would permit me a brief visit in your chambers?"

  ,

  "Another time, my...Jamie. For tonight, I find myself far too weary to

  entertain a guest." To soften the blow she added, "Even one as

  charming as you."

  She was relieved when he didn't press the issue. Instead, he smiled,

  bowed grandly and turned away.

  Once inside, Emma allowed her servant to help her out of her clothes

  and into her nightshift.

  As she sank down on the edge of the bed she feigned another yawn.

  "Good night, Nola. I will need no further
assistance this night. If you

  don't mind, I do not wish to be disturbed until morning."

  "Aye, my lady."

  Emma waited until the servant was gone. Then she bounded to her

  feet and stripped off her nightclothes, replacing them with the

  breeches and tunic belonging to the stable lad.That done, she paced

  her room, pausing occasionally at the balcony to peer into the

  darkness. And wondering how her nerves would be able to withstand

  whatever was to come this night.

  As soon as Elizabeth entered her chambers, she called to a servant,

  "Bring us some wine." Then she motioned to a chaise drawn up

  before the fire. "Sit with me awhile, my handsome rogue."

  Conor was puzzled. This was the first time that he could recall the

  queen veering from her course. Why now, on this most important

  night of all, had she decided to change the rules of the game?

  The servant entered and offered the queen a goblet of ale, then bowed

  in front of Conor. He accepted the drink, and the servant walked

  silently away.

  Elizabeth turned to him, and lifted her goblet in a salute. "I thought

  you might care to work a little more of your potent charm before we

  bid good-night."

  "My charm, Majesty?"

  "Your wit, your patience, are most persuasive, my rogue."

  "Majesty?" His heart lurched. Was she hinting that she wanted him in

  her bed? There had been a time when he had thought himself capable

  of any sacrifice for the sake of his countrymen. Even this. But that

  had been before Emma? Now the thought was so repugnant to him, he

  found himself cringing. How strange life was. There were dozens,

  nay hundreds, of men who would give anything for this opportunity.

  And all he could think about was a sweet Dublin lass-who had stolen

  his heart.

  He forced his attention back to the woman beside him.

  "Lord Dunstan has given me a very persuasive argument for engaging

  the Ulster leaders in war." She smiled up into Conor's eyes. "Is there

  anything you would like to add before I make my decision?"

  He almost sighed with relief. It wasn't affairs of the heart that held her

  interest this night, it was affairs of state.

  "Have you made up your mind, Majesty?"

  "I believe so. But I will wait to make my decision known to my

  advisors. As Dunstan has reminded me, it is a chance to send a

  message to Philip of Spain. He fears I have bided my time long

  enough."

  "If you agree with Dunstan, I will be greatly sorrowed at your news,

  Majesty, though I know you will not do this thing merely to harm my

  poor countrymen. Nor to cause pain to me. But such a decision will

  do both."

  She lay her palm against his cheek. "That is the difference between

  you and Dunstan. You are too clever to be fooled into thinking that

  such matters can be undertaken lightly, or for purely personal

  reasons. Still, Dunstan does have great charm. And there is our

  long-standing friendship. But when it comes to England, I must think

  only of my people, and what is best for them."

  "I will continue to press for a peaceful solution, Majesty. I fear that if

  you choose war, you will live to regret your decision."

  "We shall see, Conor O'Neil. We will drink, for now, to old friends

  and new. And may the most persuasive charmer win my heart." She

  lifted her goblet and drained it, and Conor did the same.

  She stood and he followed suit. "Now I must bid you good-night. I

  need my rest, to prepare for the coming progress."

  "Aye, Majesty." He kissed the hand she offered. "May your sleep be

  peaceful and dreamless."

  And his, he realized as he hurried along the hall to his own chambers,

  would be brief, if at all this night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  1 see you're ready."

  "Oh." At the sound of the deep voice Emma stopped her frantic

  pacing to turn toward the balcony. "Conor. At last. I thought you were

  never going to come."

  "Forgive me, my lady." He pulled himself over the railing. Up close

  he could see the worry etched on her brow. He touched a hand to her

  shoulder. "Did you begin to lose faith in me again, Emma?"

  She shrugged in embarrassment. "I tried not to. But I must admit that

  my thoughts have been in turmoil these past hours. How do we know

  that Celestine won't return and catch us? And what of my father and

  sister? I know we can carry Sarah from her bed. But whatever will we

  do with my father? Conor, he's too heavy to carry from the

  upper-window. And we dare not use the stairs, or the servants will

  see..."

  "Come, Emma. I'll try to put all your fears at rest while we ride. But

  we must hasten. Already, the nighttime hours are slipping away."

  Without another word Conor descended the rope, and Emma

  followed, dropping lightly into his arms in the darkened courtyard.

  She shivered as his arms came around her. There was such strength in

  them. Such strength of will in this man. And yet she constantly

  doubted him. Still, the mere touch of him seemed to bring a sense of

  calm to her troubled heart.

  For a moment he crushed her against him, pressing his lips to her

  temple. "Trust me, Emma. I'll see your father and sister safely free of

  their prison this night. Or die trying. Now come, lass. We've no time

  to waste."

  They raced toward waiting horses and sped off across the meadows.

  Conor's voice beside her was unexpectedly calm. "Edward assures

  me that Celestine will be gone for the night."

  "How can he be certain?"

  "He has been a servant in your father's home a long time, has he not?"

  She nodded as she guided her horse up a gentle slope.

  "Then trust that he knows far more about Celestine's business than

  you or I."

  "But what would take her from her warm bed at this late hour?"

  His voice was warm with unspoken laughter. "Perhaps your

  stepmother has a lover."

  He heard her little gasp of surprise and his smile grew. This sweet

  creature hadn't even begun to fathom the depth of her stepmother's

  deceit. "That would account for her nights spent far from her own

  bed."

  Though the words stung, Emma had to admit that they made sense.

  "I've always known that Celestine never loved my father. She merely

  used him to secure his wealth and title." She paused, considered.

  "What about Edward? Can you trust him to keep his silence?"

  ' 'Though the butler values his position too much to incur your

  stepmother's wrath, I sense that his loyalty lies with your father. The

  offer of a few gold coins is little enough to assure that loyalty. And

  I've promised him more before I leave."

  "And there is my next question. Conor, how will we manage to leave

  with such a heavy burden? There is the matter of the guard posted at

  the foot of the stairs. How will we ever manage to slip my father and

  sister past him? And even if we get them out of the house, how do we

  manage to spirit them away to safety?"

  "Have no fear, Emma. Can you trust me a little longer?"

  She turned to study his profile in the darkness. How
strong he

  seemed. How determined. Now that he was here beside her, she had

  no doubt that he would do what he promised.

  "Aye, Conor. I do trust you. And whatever you ask of me, I'll do it

  without question."

  Her words warmed his heart as nothing else could have.

  At the top of the meadow he reined in his mount and pointed. Up

  ahead was the darkened outline of Clermont House. Except for an

  occasional flicker of candlelight, the house and all in it seemed at rest.

  Emma shivered as they pulled into a stand of trees and dismounted.

  The whinny of a nearby horse startled her. She turned. And found

  herself staring at a wagon. Standing beside it were two giants.

  "You got my message." Conor embraced first one giant, then the

  other.

  "Aye.-With little enough time to get here." The voice was thick with

  brogue. "Couldn't you have given us a bit more notice? It isn't the

  same as going to market."

  "I figured as much. But I live to make your lives miserable."

  The three chuckled softly and clapped each other on the back. Then

  Conor turned to Emma. "This is my father, Gavin O'Neil. And my

  brother Rory."

  The two men inclined their heads slightly as Conor added, "And this

  is Emma Vaughn."

  "A woman, you say?" In the darkness the two studied the shadowy

  figure in breeches and tunic.

  "Aye. Her father is Daniel Vaughn."

  "Daniel Vaughn from Dublin?"

  "Aye. He and his young daughter, Sarah, have been drugged by

  Emma's stepmother, Celestine."

  "An English woman, no doubt." This from Gavin.

  "True enough. She is cousin to the queen."

  "Then I'm not surprised at her treatment of a man from Dublin."

  Conor ignored his father's remark and added, "They are being held

  prisoner in that house. We're going to free them."

  "And why would we do that?"

  "Because he is a countryman. Because it will vex his new wife, who

  is cousin to the queen you love to hate. And because I ask it."

  Rory gave a throaty laugh. "Fine reasons all. Come on then. Let's get

  to it."

 

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